


Out of the Shadows

by Cherilyn (Ankh), hgdoghouse



Category: The Fugitive (1993)
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ankh/pseuds/Cherilyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimble arrives home to find a surprise waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Shadows

It was dark when Doctor Richard Kimble arrived home, frost already glittering on the sidewalks. He nodded at the usually dour-faced doorman, who surprised him with a half-grin, then took the stairs, muscles moving easily beneath the heavy bulk of clothing. Three floors from his level a now familiar prickling sensation caressed his scalp, nape, and the length of his spine. His steps faltered, breath catching in his throat. Sweat that had nothing to do with his exertions trickled down his face and throat and his pulse quickened. His entire body came alive, his senses seemed sharper, and he took the remaining stairs at a quicker pace. Reaching the door to his apartment, he fumbled for his key, noting his so-steady hands were shaking, hands that had that day repaired the intricacies of vessels and tissue as if he was a mechanic fixing a carburetor. As soon as he entered his apartment he knew he wasn't alone. There was no sound, no movement to indicate this; nothing but a feeling that the silence was too absolute, and an awareness of someone waiting in the dark.

Gerard was here.

Adrenaline kicked in, heightening every sense. He hadn't dared let himself hope too much - or that's what he'd kidded himself as he'd made the time to shower, shave and change at the hospital.

About to hurry through, Kimble paused to shrug out of his overcoat and suit jacket, dropping his tie onto a chair as he unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He caught a whiff of his own cologne and worried in case he might have overdone it, then grimaced when he admitted how nervous he felt. After a moment's reflection he took off his shoes and socks. He defied anyone to look sexy while they took off such things.

Flexing his toes in the deep pile of the carpet, he luxuriated in the warmth of the apartment after the raw chill of the November evening and gave a lengthy, bone-popping stretch. He was tense; he always was on the nights he and Gerard were together, afraid each time that he would say or do something wrong and that this time would be the last.

But Sam was here.

A gleam of anticipation in his eyes, unable to bear the waiting any longer, he headed for the bedroom. But he didn't switch on the lights. That wasn't in the rules.

Taking a calming breath, he began to seek out that other presence with his senses as he padded through the spacious living room. He didn't call out and he kept to the shadows, although he could not have said why. Certainly it wasn't to remain undetected; his presence would have been registered the moment he came in the front door. It was impossible to detect any sound above the thunder of his pulse and the harshness of his breath, drawn in ragged, painfully loud gasps.

Kimble shivered with a mixture of excitement and nerves as he approached his bedroom. Something creaked, making his heart leap into his throat. He licked suddenly dry lips and tugged at his clothing, wiping his palms on his suit pants. A detached portion of his brain noted that his thighs were as hyper-sensitive as the rest of him at that moment, the slightest breath of air enough to make his skin prickle.

He took a deep, juddering breath and paused in the bedroom doorway. The drapes had been left open, moonlight pouring in through the window to spill across the large bed. He stepped into the room.

Behind him, a sound like breath catching in the throat broke the silence as effectively as a gunshot. He was about to turn to acknowledge it when a soft yet commanding voice stopped him.

"Don't turn around, Richard."

Kimble froze, straining to catch whatever sounds the other man might make. He heard the rustle of fabric and the faint sound of breathing; it was quieter, more controlled than his own, though with a rasping edge to it that clawed along his spine.

He sensed the other man's approach, the presence of deputy U.S. marshal Samuel Gerard a physical force that slammed into him, scattering his senses and killing the ability to think coherently. He felt an acute awareness of the body so close behind him; radiating an intense heat, the heady scent of Gerard overwhelmed him, sweeping over and into him until there was nothing but the moonlit bed and the leashed, heady power of the man behind him.

Kimble flinched, his breath a broken sound deep in his throat, when a hand brushed against his nape - not the warmth of flesh but the lesser warmth, though equal softness, of smooth, supple leather.

Gerard always wore gloves, just as he never undressed fully; behaviour Kimble would have tolerated from no other lover. But Kimble sensed that this was more than a sex game; he was missing some piece of the puzzle where Gerard was concerned and until he discovered what it was he would continue to say nothing, making no attempt to breach the other man's barriers. It was why he stayed in this strange relationship.

That and the fact he had fallen in love.

Hands slid between the edges of his shirt, slipping buttons free with a practised ease before the clever fingers began to pinch and fondle his peaked nipples, tugging gently, then harder when Kimble gave a pleasured moan.

The softly drawling voice which murmured in his ear had a thread of steel underlying it. "This," the finger plucked at the fine cotton shirt, "comes off, right now." His already sensitized nipple received a pinch which stole his breath away, but the gloved hands left his body until the command should be obeyed.

Kimble shrugged out of his shirt, the habitual steadiness of his surgeon's hands long gone as he let it fall to the floor.

"And the rest," the voice demanded.

Gerard had retreated. Longing for the heat and the scent and the presence of him, Kimble hurried to obey. His movements were jerky, lacking his usual finesse. As cooler air met his heated flesh he shivered, although it had little to do with the temperature of the room. Bare toes clenched into the thick pile of the carpet as he awaited Gerard's next move.

One finger traced the long length of his spine, then swept back up, pausing to stroke across his shoulders. Not so smooth leather after all, Kimble realized when the ridged seam rubbed his skin. He swallowed audibly, his eyes widening as he absorbed the myriad possibilities for pleasure, even if most of the possibilities required more intimacy than they had shared to date.

He felt the man behind him lean closer, dry lips brushing the side of his neck. There was the scrape of light stubble across the smoother skin of his throat as Gerard explored with lips and tongue the corded muscle and hollows, before moving to check out the more abrasive jawline.

Kimble felt the shock of something cold and metallic against the plane of his shoulder blade. Various lightning quick images flashed across his startled mind until he identified the object.

Shock drove him into speech, breaking the rules. "You kept your badge on. Are you still armed?"

The nuzzling lips left him, Gerard tensing. "Is that what you want?" The usually warm voice was flat.

"Jesus, no," said Kimble, instinctively telling the truth. "It was a dumb question. You wouldn't."

A sigh gusted across the back of his neck. "No," agreed Gerard, "I wouldn't. This is no place for guns. Besides," and the warmth was back in his voice, "I don't need one to make you do what I want. What we both want. Do I?"

Kimble's eyes narrowed. Was it his imagination or had there been a hint of uncertainty? While the words could have sounded smug, there had been a faint tremor in Gerard's quiet voice. He relaxed back against the other man in unspoken reassurance and was willing to swear he felt Gerard's mouth brush the back of his head. Then one big hand, encased in black leather, came around to fondle his engorged cock and he was helpless to hold back a strangled groan.

"I'll take that for a no." This time there was no mistaking the note in Gerard's voice. He was smug all right. He had cause.

The gloved hand left Kimble's erection to stroke his buttocks with unmistakeable possession. The hand lingered to trace the curves and hot, damp cleft before moving up to slide under his arm. The big fingers paused to caress the biceps, then swept his arm up and out to the side, holding the wrist captive in a circle of leather. The cloth of Gerard's woollen overcoat was a prickle of sensation down the length of his naked back, heightening Kimble's sense of the other man against every part of him.

There was the startling nip of teeth against his shoulder, followed by the wet lapping of Gerard's tongue as that seductive mouth sucked the branded flesh, playing with him.

His breathing ragged, Kimble's head drooped as if it had become too heavy for his neck to support it. He shivered, trying to second-guess his tormentor.

The lips moved on to the crease of the armpit, teeth tugging on the hair there before the tongue flickered experimentally, then returned for more, a greedy quality to the determined probing. He shivered when the back of his arm received a series of lengthy, moist licks, Gerard pausing to lap at the salt of his inner elbow and to tease that sensitive place.

Kimble's wrist was released only for Gerard to capture his hand and entwine the doctor's fingers with his own. When his hand was carried to that talented mouth, Kimble's fingers curled helplessly into the palm with pleasure. He was grateful for the arm possessively banding his ribcage, not trusting his legs to support him as the ridged side of a gloved thumb abraded his left nipple. He quivered with need, the moist tip of his cock betraying him.

He raised his chin. He wouldn't beg. He daren't risk changing the unspoken rules. At least not yet.

Gerard still held Kimble's right hand to his mouth and now began to explore it with a thorough attention to detail. Lips and tongue followed the shape of his fingers, sucked at the fleshy mound at the base of his thumb and traced the lines of the palm, before nibbling the sparse flesh of the knuckles. Each finger was treated to this delicate exploration and each nip, every slide of Gerard's tongue, went straight to Kimble's groin. Every time his fingers penetrated that moist, welcoming mouth his cock grew heavier with need, his breathing more ragged.

Sam had never done this before.

When that wonderful mouth finally abandoned him Kimble moaned his sense of loss.

Gerard changed position slightly and as he moved, first the buckle of his belt, then the buttons of his topcoat scraped against the naked skin of Kimble's spine. In contrast to that abrasion a slick tongue trailed down his back from nape to tailbone.

Kimble's breath caught and for a moment he was incapable of making any sound.

Hands caressed his sides, tracing the ribcage and straying to toy once again with the highly sensitive nipples.

Kimble shook with the effort it required not to turn and tug the other man's mouth down to further pleasure him.

But that wasn't in the rules, was it?

He gave a regretful sigh when the hands left him, only to moan with delight when Gerard's tongue slid lower; reaching the tailbone, it moved without pause to plunge into the cleft of his butt. The gloved hands at his hips slid round, thumbs sliding inwards to reveal that most secret part of him. Kimble hissed as Gerard lightly rubbed his cheek across the rise of his ass, making him quiver; his eyes sank blissfully shut the better to relish that delicious abrasion. Then Gerard's tongue began a sensual probing, lapping and spearing the twitching orifice.

His knees buckling, Kimble swayed, assailed by the imperative to sink to his knees and open himself totally to the other man's tender invasion. He let out a harsh sob and reached for his weeping cock.

Lightning quick, Gerard was on his feet and had an arm across Kimble's throat. Rather than a threat, it was a reminder of the deputy's position of power and Kimble's relative vulnerability, and it excited the hell out of the doctor.

A husky command was whispered into his ear. "Get down on your knees."

Kimble closed his eyes, frantically praying for self-control and the strength not to spill himself so soon, merely because of a hot tongue and a sensual voice.

The pressure around his throat eased before he was released. Kimble was shaking uncontrollably as he complied with Gerard's command and sank to his knees. Part of him was relieved that he no longer had to rely on the support of his trembling legs, all of him was eager for whatever Gerard chose to do with him next.

Swallowing convulsively, he awaited the other man's pleasure, his eyes wide with anticipation because he knew it would be his, too.

Seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Kimble's pulse was so loud he couldn't hear any sound behind him, but he could feel the warmth of Gerard's body. His cock gave a responsive twitch and he swallowed hard again, fighting the temptation to take his aching flesh in his fist.

Gerard stepped around to stand in front of Kimble. The doctor raised his head to take in the picture the other man presented. Never the most benign looking of men, the deputy marshal looked especially intimidating at that moment. He seemed to be dressed entirely in black, a shirt teamed with jeans, topped by along, calf-length coat; the darkness was relieved only by the gleam of silver of the marshal's badge, and the buckle of the wide leather belt.

Most intimidating of all was the aura, the sheer physical impact of Sam Gerard.

The perfectly proportioned body was lean yet sturdy, and left the observer with the impression of a much larger man. The face - Oh, the face! How could that face, with its lines, its flaws, its battered maleness, how could such a face look malevolent, wistful and so damn sexy all at the same time? The moonlight highlighted some imperfections and softened others. The protruding brow that gave the profile its distinctive cast seemed almost primeval. The dark eyes glittered, their expression unreadable, the long lashes casting shadows down the lean cheeks. The right side of the face remained in shadows. There was something so devilish, so utterly masculine about those features.

And the hands -

As Kimble studied them, those large, strong hands he loved so much reached out to sift through his hair, sliding around to stroke his face. One big finger ran along his lips, coaxing his mouth open.

Kimble's mouth parted willingly but his gaze was fixed on the movement of the other man's right hand as, button by button, Gerard opened the fastening of the black jeans, peeling back the denim to free the big, hard cock.

Inhaling the heady scent of the other man, Kimble unconsciously licked his full lower lip.

"I want to suck your cock," he said, the longing stark in his voice. "Please."

A shaky sigh escaped Gerard, although the shadows masked subtleties of expression. "You don't have to beg me for anything, Richard." His hand cupped the side of Kimble's face when he leant forward, mindless with lust. "Wait." Fumbling in the pocket of the overcoat which he still wore, he produced a condom.

Kimble took the foil wrapper from the other man, as aware of the significance of this moment as Gerard. Until now, the most intimacy they had shared had been a hand around the other's cock, or the friction of their locked bodies. But Sam had been carrying condoms around in his pocket, suggesting that Sam wanted more from this relationship - if you could call it that - as much as he did. And he was finally going to get to do this.

Engrossed in the pleasure of the moment, Kimble rolled the sheath onto the beautiful cock, inwardly mourning the latex barrier between them. Anticipating the moment, he leant closer to nuzzle the tender skin just above the pubis. A visible quiver rippled through Gerard, just before his gloved fingers brushed the back of Kimble's head, but he exerted no pressure.

He never did, recognized Kimble. Any pressure stemmed from his own longing.

In that moment he accepted that the choice was his; it always had been, it had just taken him this long to acknowledge the fact, but it explained why he had been so willing so play this strange game of theirs. Stupid to settle for so little for so long.

Drawn by his need for the other man, he leant forward to take Sam Gerard into his mouth for the first time. He had longed to do this since their first night together but had been too afraid to ask for what might not be on offer. He became aware that the other man was shaking and suspected it had more to do with fear than lust. A wave of protectiveness swept over him and his hands settled over the narrow flanks, long fingers cupping the other man's ass. He wasn't going to lose Sam now.

The first slide of his tongue along the long ridged vein had Gerard sighing. Kimble felt a stab of pleasure at the sound and took more of that beautiful cock into his mouth. The fingers cradling Kimble's head began a rhythmic massage, sliding through his hair, unconsciously tugging the working mouth closer. Kimble took in as much as he could, savouring every inch.

His world narrowed to the pleasure it was in his power to give the other man. He ignored his own aching erection, exploring his shadow lover's flesh instead, one hand moving from Gerard's hip, slipping under the barrier formed by the black jeans to caress as much of the beautifully shaped ass as he could. He slid his thumb into the cleft, stroking down to tease the anus. He heard a gasp and almost choked when Gerard bucked helplessly in response. The pleasured expression and the dazed look in his eyes that the moonlight revealed were imprinted on Kimble's mind.

Then the other man was drawing away and his cock slipped from Kimble's mouth. He made a sound of protest when Gerard, still achingly erect, took a step back from him.

Kimble's ass clenched and relaxed spasmodically, desire burning through his veins. The need to be filled by Gerard was so great it was like a hunger, a pulsing emptiness. Kimble closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the wave of longing that swept over him. He had so little of this man and craved so much more. He was tiring of snatched pleasure in the darkness, of having yet not having; most of all, he was tired of all his unspoken, barely acknowledged desires. It was time to push, time to see what else the other man would give him.

Getting to his feet, he put out one hand, palm outwards. "Wait, just wait, Sam." Walking with care because of his erection, he went to the nightstand and took out the tube of lubricant he had bought weeks ago. Wordless, he returned to stand in front of Gerard and handed it to him, then stroked the side of his thumb across Sam's lower lip. Turning away, he dropped to his knees and reached forward to yank the comforter off the bed. Seconds later he swivelled around, afraid that he might have gone too far. "Please."

"Ah, Richard." Gerard stared at the man kneeling at his feet, offering himself, and slowly removed the condom he wore, tossing it in the wastebasket. "I think you nicked it with your teeth," he explained. Handing Kimble a fresh wrapper, he began to undress: boots, socks, overcoat, shirt, jeans, shorts.

Unsteady and over-anxious, the ferocious ache in his balls making concentration difficult, Kimble fumbled with the foil wrapper, muttering with frustration until it was undone. Only then did he look up to see that Gerard was gloriously naked in front of him.

Kimble's gaze caressed every bared inch of flesh. "You're beautiful," he breathed unguardedly, this the first time he had seen the other man completely naked. Then he heard what he had said and looked down, afraid yet again that he might have spoiled the moment.

Kneeling in front of him, one hand on Kimble's shoulder, Gerard rested his forehead against his for a moment. "Are you sure you want us to do this?" he asked.

Kimble didn't trust himself to do more than nod at first, then, clearing his throat, said, "If that's what you want?" He couldn't keep the question from his voice to save his life.

Gerard's soft snort said more than his shadowed face. "I want," he confirmed, and the truth of it echoed in his soft voice.

"Good." Bending his head, Kimble picked up the fresh condom and rolled it down the other man's length, feeling the quiver of reaction that rippled through Gerard at even that simple touch. Then, slicking his palms with lubricant, he took Gerard in the curve of his hand, running his thumb over the head of his cock and drawing a hiss from the other man. Leaning forward, Kimble kissed the hollow of the strong throat, heard Gerard swallow and turned around, offering himself up for the other man's pleasure - knowing it would be his own.

He felt an almost indecent sense of triumph. This was the second thing he had wanted. Maybe there never had been any rules; he had just assumed there were, and that they were of Gerard's making. It began to occur to him that he had been just as responsible as Sam for trapping them in a frustrating cycle that set limits on both their sensuality and their emotions.

But if they were both comfortable with more, maybe there was hope for them after all.

Feeling the leather-clad fingers drifting down his shoulders and back he reached behind him. His hands settling over the narrow flanks, he insistently drew Gerard closer.

One of the gloved hands left him while the other caressed his tailbone, then lower. He held his breath, releasing it in an uncontrolled gasp when something cool and slick pressed against his anus. One thick finger rimmed him then pressed inward, slipping easily into the slick, welcoming channel. The leather felt alien but pleasurable, the ridged seam providing an added friction. The finger worked itself knuckle deep and Kimble held his breath, a sob, almost of relief, escaping him when it found his prostate. The pleasure was exquisite and he arched like some great cat, pushing back, wanting more. Instead, the finger withdrew but Kimble waited expectantly. A few seconds later, one finger became two.

The deputy's hands were far from small and finely made, and encased in leather gloves those wide fingers filled Kimble so completely he could scarcely draw breath. Flashes of pleasure spread through every nerve and he wrenched the comforter closer to him, gathering its luxurious softness beneath him. His head pillowed on the velvet fabric, his clutching fingers buried themselves in it as he gave himself up to the moment - and this man he called his lover. This man who came to him, night after night. This man he only ever saw in shadow and moonlight. This man he barely knew, yet who possessed him, body and soul.

The fingers continued to fuck him, slowly moving in and out, in and out, and Kimble pressed back to meet them, mindless with need.

Gerard's free hand squeezed Kimble's cock, delaying orgasm for a little longer.

"Take the glove off. I want you, not leather," Kimble managed to gasp, unconscious that he had given the other man an order. The fingers eased from him, but before he could mourn the loss he felt the nip of teeth on his earlobe.

"Yeah? Say please."

Kimble was speechless for a moment; the last thing he had expected was for Gerard to tease him. His throat closed up as his emotional response hit him but he managed to choke out, "Sam..."

"I know, but I need to hear you say it." Gerard's voice sounded almost apologetic this time.

Kimble could feel him shaking with the effort of holding back. His earlobe was nipped again, the small smart shooting through his body; all sensations seemed to center on and from his cock.

There was a pleading note in Gerard's voice as he repeated, "Say it, Richard. I need to hear you to say it."

Kimble heard Gerard draw a ragged breath then a softly whispered, "You'll have to help me, Richard."

The words seemed to hang in the air around them. In that moment Kimble felt a powerful connection, so aware of, and in tune with, Sam Gerard that it was as if he could read his mind, could feel his emotions, his uncertainty. Gerard was afraid.

The darknesss, the gloved hands that formed a barrier between them, the words that were unspoken, it all began to make sense.

No power game.

Fear.

Fear of revealing light; fear of words that were never spoken because they could be just as illuminating as light; fear of hands daring to touch flesh, yet their bodies were allowed to meet in sexual ways, never tender. Until tonight.

Sam was afraid, as afraid as Richard Kimble who didn't dare to turn on the light, who didn't dare speak the words he longed to, who accepted gloved hands and clothed bodies and never asked for more because he might lose it all.

Which of them was the greater coward? Sam for holding back or Kimble for not demanding more.

He felt a wave of tenderness for the other man which he didn't try to hide. It was in his voice when he said, in a rush of longing, "Please let me feel you, not the leather,"

Gerard put his gloved right hand, which still bore a trace of moisture from Kimble's cock, to the doctor's mouth. "Take it off for me, Richard." His lips brushed Kimble's ear. "Not with your hands."

"Oh, God," whispered Kimble, his head bowing for a moment as he took a steadying breath.

He nudged Gerard's leather-clad hand once before, making a ritual of necessity, he took the tip of each leather-clad finger between his teeth while Gerard slowly eased his hand free. The smell of leather and musk was thick in Kimble's nostrils. He inhaled deeply, lapping at Gerard's warm fingers; unable to resist the temptation any longer, he sucked the tip of one into his mouth. The deputy's thumb stroked his cheek before he eased his hand away.

Kimble quivered when the saliva-slick finger traced the length of his cock from root to tip, the pad circling the moisture weeping from the tiny slit. He arched, gasping for air as the callused finger teased the area.

"Fuck me, Sam," he begged.

"Now would be good," he added through gritted teeth when nothing happened.

A shuddering breath whispered against his neck. Fine tremors ran the length of his body as bare, lubricant slick fingers began to work his body again. Gerard's palm cupped his length, offering no stimulation as yet. Then the fingers withdrew and he felt the snub head of Sam Gerard's cock brush the entrance to his body.

"Yesss..."

One hand shooting back, Kimble tried to drag the other man forward. There was a moment's hesitation then Gerard was nudging the entrance to his body, easing inside him, pausing, then moving, pausing, then moving deeper, allowing his body time to adjust. His head going back, the long line of his throat exposed, Kimble hissed his approval and dared to push back.

A choked obscenity escaped Gerard and he froze, shaking with the effort to maintain control.

"It's OK, 's OK," grunted Kimble, in an agony of impatience.

"Not yet it's not," growled Gerard, and then he was moving freely and strongly. Changing position and tempo, he made it last as long as he was able.

Soft whimpers escaped Kimble. Incoherent, he gave himself up to the sensations Gerard was creating for him, pushing back to meet the pleasure-giving cock, then thrusting forward into the tight fist milking him. The big fingers sliding over his slick erection kept perfect rhythm until Kimble came with a throat-tearing cry.

Moments later, dazed and prone, he sighed with satisfaction when he felt Gerard come.

 

Kimble lay perfectly still and silent, afraid that the slightest movement or noise would wake Gerard who was sprawled on top of him.

What was it that drew him to this man? What was it that drew Gerard to him time and time again? He had felt linked to the man who had hunted him down from the first moment they met, hadn't known who he was yet had wanted him to believe he was innocent. Then later, Gerard had believed, had cared and the links had tightened inexorably around his heart.

He'd had nightmares of course - after what he'd been through they were inevitable. They continued to this day, though the quality of them was ever changing and he no longer woke up in a sweat. Now when he awoke it was to a sense of frustration. He dreamt of his murdered wife, Helen, and of Sam Gerard, but not the Gerard who had hunted him down. Helen would call his name and he would walk towards her; then a door would slam closed and he would be left in darkness. He would feel the presence of someone close by and the darkness would lift a little to reveal a tenderly smiling Sam Gerard who was holding out his hand. Kimble would walk towards him and as he got closer it grew lighter, the darkness almost completely banished, at which point he woke up. It didn't take a genius to figure out what his subconscious was trying to tell him.

It was now almost nine months after their first meeting, and two months since this warped relationship had begun. He had been drinking with colleagues from work when he felt himself being watched. He had looked up to see Sam Gerard. Nothing had been said but something unspoken had passed between them.

That something had brought them to this. Whatever the hell they could make it.

He didn't pretend to understand what was between them, afraid that if he analyzed it too closely, if he asked too many questions, he might lose it.

But he couldn't stop himself hungering for more.

How to tell that to a man with whom he had exchanged maybe a couple of dozen sentences? Even when he had given Gerard the key to his apartment he had done so silently, acknowledging the unspoken rule, afraid that if he pushed he might lose what little of the other man he had been given.

He thought the events of this evening might have changed that. Tonight Sam had learnt how much this meant to him and offered something of himself in return.

Fear swamped the doctor's drowsy contentment. But what if Sam had discovered he didn't want more? What if he had destroyed what little they had by pushing the other man too far?

Tensing, his bravado trickled away. What the hell had happened to him? When had he turned into this pathetic creature, content with what crumbs he could get? He despised what he had become. But it wouldn't stop him from doing or being whatever was necessary to keep Sam Gerard. Quite how or why the connection had been forged he didn't pretend to understand; he only knew its importance in his life.

He felt Gerard stir and roll from him, heard the soft sound of the condom landing in the waste basket, felt Sam settle back to lie at his side. Closing his eyes, Kimble felt depression wash over him. Sam would leave soon, at least for tonight. All he could hope for was that perhaps Gerard might wait for him later this week, maybe even tomorrow, hiding in the darkness, as if afraid that stepping into the light would destroy this strange shadow-world relationship they had created.

His life with Helen had been full of laughter and sunshine. Strange then that he could be content with shadows and fall in love with a man he barely knew.

He needed Sam Gerard.

He felt Gerard get to his feet, heard him pad into the bathroom. Water ran. A short while later he was back and Kimble could hear him pulling on and fastening his clothing. Kimble tried to console himself with the thought that this was the longest Sam had ever stayed. Did that hold any meaning, or was it simply that Sam was as fallible as the next guy and had dozed off for a few minutes?

Kimble remained still; keeping his breathing steady, his back was to the other man. All his energy was channelled. He felt as if he was reaching out with mind and soul, trying to pull Gerard back to his side. Willing the other man to need him as much as he needed Sam.

He felt something touch the back of his head. Fingers brushed against his hair, so lightly that for a second he thought he was mistaken. His head swung around in time to see Gerard heading for the door.

"Don't go," Kimble said, unaware he had spoken until he heard his own voice. He watched the dark figure stop and slowly turn to face him.

"I have to."

Was it just wishful thinking or had he heard a question in Gerard's voice? Were his suspicions true, that this incredible forceful man really was just as confused and terrified as he was? He stared at him, trying to read his expression, but the moonlight simply wasn't bright enough; he couldn't even be certain if Gerard was looking at him.

What the hell was he thinking? Sam Gerard, terrified? Sam could bring a strong man to his knees.

He just had. He would have done anything Sam had asked of him. It was just that he asked so little.

Kimble sighed softly to himself. Of course he couldn't ask. He bit back further words of pleading and turning, settled himself in the spot Gerard had occupied for the short time he had lain next to him, although the other man's warmth had already cooled. He should be content with what little he could get. For now it would have to be enough.

There was silence, then the sound of paper rustling. More shocking, a lamp was switched on. His head bowed, Kimble closed his eyes, not sure if he was allowed to look at the other man, afraid to in case he vanished. He felt Gerard approaching and the breath caught in his throat. For better or worse, Gerard was changing the rules, just as he had.

Fingers slid down his arm. A piece of paper was pressed into his hand and what felt like a key. His eyes flew open, his head swinging around to see Gerard staring at their clasped hands, a strange diffidence in his expression. His eyes lifted for a second to meet Kimble's puzzled stare then flicked away, as if unable to sustain the contact.

Reading the piece of paper, Kimble's eyes widened with understanding.

An address. A door key.

He stared at the deputy, willing the other man to meet his gaze again. Eventually Gerard did so, a wry twist to his mouth before he nodded silent confirmation.

Kimble began to smile, the warmth of it gaining in strength as the implication sank in. His gaze never leaving the other man he saw the tiny answering curve of Gerard's lips before he moved away. Halfway to the door, Gerard paused, returning to his side before swooping down to press a kiss of infinite tenderness against the startled Kimble's mouth.

It was all too fleeting, Gerard ending the kiss before it had truly begun. Kimble reached for him, hands cupping the dark head, drawing Gerard closer and kissing him just as tenderly but not so briefly. With great reluctance he released the other man.

This was far too important to rush.

The deputy stared at Kimble for a long moment, his face revealing little but surprise. Then a shy smile began to blossom on his face, the devil's mien lifting away to reveal that, contrary to popular misconception, Sam Gerard was a handsome man.

Something cold inside Kimble splintered and began to melt, freeing what had remained dormant for so long.

Gerard got to his feet, his hand stretched out behind him as he backed slowly towards the bedroom door; his eyes never left Kimble.

"Tomorrow," Kimble said, taking control once more. He tried to keep his voice commanding but ended up sounding ridiculously gleeful.

Gerard nodded, his smile deepening. "Your place or mine?" he asked softly.

"Yours."

Gerard nodded. Turning away to open the door, he paused, then faced Kimble; his expression was gentle, the tight lines of the mouth eased. The smile was still in evidence and his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. It was as if some inner darkness had lifted and for the first time in a long while he was walking in sunshine.

Sam Gerard looked happy. As Kimble watched, the smile became a grin. Then a sound escaped those curved lips.

With a surprised joy Kimble registered that it was warm chuckle of laughter.

"Tomorrow, Richard. I'll leave a light on."

"I'll be there. Tomorrow seems a long time away," added Kimble, almost in a whisper as Gerard left the bedroom. Curled in the luxurious folds of the velvet comforter, his face lit up when Gerard's head reappeared around the edge of the door jamb.

"Tomorrow is too damn far away," Gerard agreed. "I could sleep over." His face was alive in a way Kimble had never seen it before.

Laughing, he stretched out his hand. "You mean I get to see you naked again?"

Coming back into the room, Gerard parted his hands. "Whatever you want, Richard." Despite his smile, he looked nervous but his voice was absolutely serious.

In that moment Kimble knew it was going to work.

"I want you, Sam," he said.

Getting to his feet, he gently brushed aside the other man's large hands and slowly undressed him, pausing to kiss prime spots - just for the pleasure of it.

"Not just for sex," Kimble added.

"No," agreed Gerard, just before he took the other man in a fierce, celebratory hug.

*

Gerard woke with a start, his heart racing as he stared out into the darkness, only to relax as he remembered where he was and who he was with. The arm banding his ribcage tightened its grip.

"'s all right. I've got you." Kimble's voice was a barely comprehensible slur of sound as he snuggled closer. "You OK?" He was obviously surfacing.

"Very." Gerard patted the back of the lax hand resting on his belly. He was more than OK. This was the payoff for two of the most miserable and uncertain months of his life.

Easing onto his back, his arm went around the sleeper, who unconsciously accommodated the change of sleeping position. Squinting down at the tousled brown hair that was tickling his chin, Gerard gave the faintest of smiles.

Richard Kimble asleep in his arms. He wouldn't have put odds on that yesterday. Damn, but it felt good.

He'd been so afraid he was about to lose what little he had. It had been Richard who had been brave enough to make the first move - although that shouldn't have surprised him. Richard was one of the most courageous people he had ever met.

And he'd wanted him for so long that the wanting was embedded in his soul. He had never dared think that he might get him. Had felt sick at heart for lusting after a man who had been through what Richard had been through - for obsessing over a guy who was trying to find his wife's murderer. But then you didn't get to choose who you loved, though what you did next was your responsibility.

He'd tried to do the right thing. Had done what he could to smooth Richard's path back into society - as he would have done anyway. The guy had earned it. Then he'd tried to rebuild his shattered emotional life. Until that night Richard had looked across a crowded bar and seemingly seen to the heart of him.

Gerard gave a weighty sigh, unconsciously stroking the other man's bare back. He'd pretty much been running on emotion from the moment the connection between them was made, logic and common sense flying out the window.

They'd squandered two months. Two months of being dumb enough to skulk in the shadows when all they'd had to do was step into the light. Two months of being afraid that Richard only wanted role-playing from him; of protecting himself as best he could from the hurt that came with that knowledge; of keeping his clothes on, of keeping gloves on as if they could provide a shield, and prevent him from getting to close and getting hurt.

As if those damn gloves had done anything but make him ache all the more for the sensation of bare flesh beneath his palm.

Jesus but Richard felt so great.

If anyone had called him a coward he would have decked them, but that's exactly what he'd been for the last two months. But then they said love made a man do stupid things.

Kimble made a soft, troubled sound, his foot twitching against Gerard's calf. Cupping the back of the other man's neck, Gerard's fingertips offered the slightest of touches, his voice a murmured reassurance. Slowly the other man relaxed against him.

Gerard bent his neck and was just able to brush his mouth over the soft brown hair. How could a man as loving as Richard have been content with so little? Unless he, too, had been prepared to settle for second best rather than nothing at all.

His face weary but serene, Gerard closed his eyes, content to drift while he held his sleeping lover until morning.

The next thing he knew the sun was in his eyes and his face was approximately six inches from Kimble's, who was looking at him as if he was a mixture of prime steak, the Holy Grail and a pot of gold. Kind of how he felt about Richard truth be told.

"Hi, Sam." There was a wealth of satisfaction in the greeting.

"Hi yourself," returned Gerard, easing himself up and swallowing a yawn. Fingers combed through his hair.

"You OK?" Beneath the casualness of the query Kimble's anxiety was obvious.

"More than OK, Richard." Gerard only just stopped himself from kissing the other man. It was early days to inflict morning breath on him.

"I haven't cleaned my teeth," said Kimble, seemingly preoccupied with the same thought.

"I don't care," Gerard told him honestly.

And then they were kissing, slowly and fervently and in the full light of the sun.

Straddling Gerard, already erect, Kimble moaned deep in his throat as a callused hand held their cocks together, the other pressed against his ass. Then they were moving and kissing and stroking one another. Taking it slow, revelling in the rare pleasure of admitting this was what they needed.

 

The next time they awoke the sun had moved around the room.

"Thank God it's Saturday," groaned Gerard, rubbing his nose against Kimble's shoulder. He hadn't felt this rested for months.

"And that you're here. Damn it, Sam. Two months. We wasted two months," said Kimble, stroking the side of Gerard's face.

His expression made Gerard feel shy and proud at the same time. Little by little it was sinking in that Richard and he felt the same way about each other. Before doubts could swamp him there was the comfort of remembering Richard's determination and stubbornness. Once Richard made up his mind he didn't change it easily.

"We'll make up for the lost time," Gerard told him unguardedly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," said Kimble simply.

"That's a dangerous offer."

"Not with you."

The air whooshed out of Gerard's lungs. "No," he conceded. The only reassurance he needed was contained in those sparkling hazel eyes. Though they looked almost gold in this light.

Jesus, he had it bad.

It was only when Kimble said he was glad to hear it that Gerard realized he had said it aloud. But his mouth refused to stay sober and his quelling look insisted on turning into a grin, though he couldn't regret that when he saw the pleasure on Richard's face.

Kimble sat up in a tangle of bedding. Leaning over the side of the mattress, he hauled up a decadent looking comforter of crimson velvet. "I only bought this last week. I knew it would look good against your skin. I just never thought - " Falling silent, he tossed it over Gerard's raised knees.

Gerard held out his arm and felt Kimble settle into that curve. "Is that a subtle way of saying you want me to pay the dry-cleaning bill?" he teased.

Kimble snorted. "I never thought of that. Sure, why not. It was your fault. Though fault isn't exactly the word I would have used. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"How long have you had that lube in the nightstand?" said Gerard, plucking a question from the air.

"Who says I got it with us in mind?" countered Kimble with a telling defensiveness.

Gerard gave the nipple closest to him a friendly tweak.

"I've had it a while, OK?" said Kimble sulkily.

"How long, Richard?" asked Gerard, his voice warm with amusement, the affection in his unguarded eyes causing his companion to relax with a sigh.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"Uh-uh." Taking one of the beautiful hands in his own Gerard absently began to nuzzle the knuckles, a gesture so loving that it didn't occur to Kimble to withhold the truth.

"You remember that night in the bar?"

"Oh yeah," said Gerard, his voice soft as the deepest velvet pile.

"I bought the lube the day after."

"Yeah? You don't waste much time." There was admiration in Gerard's voice.

"Damn it, how was I to know you'd be such a slow worker? There I was, ripe for seduction - "

Gerard groaned. "Now he tells me."

"So those condoms you had in your pocket - "

"OK, you got me. Don't kick a guy when he's down. Two months," Gerard sighed. "Two months of snapping at my kids in the department, my boss and every damn person I met. It's a wonder my balls aren't bright blue."

"They're not," Kimble assured him. "But I'll check again later. Just to make sure. Though I don't know why they should be. You weren't exactly going without."

Gerard's head turned, his eyes soft and dark and unguarded. "There's a vast difference between having sex and making love." He groaned. "Shit. I'm talking in clichés now."

Kimble prodded him in the ribs. "It might not have been perfect but it was all I thought was on offer. I always considered us to be making love. Tell me you didn't."

Gerard muttered something under his breath.

All large-eyed innocence, Kimble cocked his head. "I didn't catch that, Sam."

"You weren't supposed to," Gerard growled.

Unimpressed, Kimble just grinned at him.

"A guy has to retain some mystery," Gerard evaded.

Kimble tucked his leg over the other man's. "That whole deal about the lights and stuff. I wondered if maybe you had three nipples or something." Under the flippancy was the question he would not ask.

"Just the two," replied Gerard. "And a bad case of cowardice. I was afraid you might see more in my face than you'd be comfortable with. Then it kind of seemed like you preferred it that way."

"You weren't the only one who was scared of blowing it," Kimble admitted, staring out into the room. "So why did you turn on the light tonight?"

Gerard exhaled softly. "I figured it was lose the fear or lose you. And losing you wasn't an option. Besides, you'd already had the courage to take us further than - I couldn't leave you out there alone." He looked up to see Richard giving him a dewy-eyed look. It unnerved Gerard to the point where he muttered the secret he had been keeping to himself for so long.

Kimble gave a cheesy grin, although his eyes were even brighter. "I love you too," he said.

Gerard's head shot round.

"I have excellent hearing," Kimble told him.

"Amongst other things," Gerard muttered, but a smile stubbornly insisted on forming and refused to go away.

"I meant it," Kimble added.

"I figured," Gerard conceded, which earned him another prod in the ribs just before Kimble took him in a rib-cracking hug.

"I do have one more question," Kimble said when his lover was capable of breathing again.

Gerard's instincts were good. He caught the note of supposed casualness in Kimble's voice and gave him a look of deepest suspicion.

"How were you planning to get into your home if you've given me your door key? Is that the real reason you came back?"

Horrified by Kimble's misconception, Gerard hastened to put him right. "Hell, no. I had a spare made over a month ago. It's got your name on the fob and I've been carrying it around - " he broke off as Kimble gave a snort of amusement and he realized he'd been conned by big eyes and a drooping mouth.

It took a couple of minutes of swiping Kimble across the head with a pillow before the other man stopped laughing, and a lot of kissing before the grin faded to a smile. But the smug look on his face and the pleasure-lit hazel eyes remained.

Gerard had a feeling he'd be seeing them that way for a long time to come.

The future was looking bright.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Completed September 1998
> 
> Originally appeared in ALTER EGOS 3
> 
> Many thanks and much mushroom and tomato pasta (with basil sprigs on top) to HG.


End file.
